


Just Don't Leave

by Natalya



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action, Christmas, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 09:33:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1813699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natalya/pseuds/Natalya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bucky saves Steve it could be at the cost of his own life.  The fallout isn't easy but what else are friends there for.  Memories, Christmas is coming, banter and a healthy dose of feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It all comes down

Thick grey dust filled the air, choking, cloying as the echos of the explosion died away, leaving instead the sounds of the building creaking as it settled, concrete and metal crumbled, warped and twisted. Steve slowly cracked his eyes open to darkness, a throbbing in his head dead weight pressing down on him. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes again, tasting blood in his mouth, trying to remember. 

Explosion. 

He was trapped, buried in the ruins of the building. 

He drew in another slow breath. It had been Hydra. They had been taking down a base. 

There had been a split second warning from Tony over the comm link just before the building came down. He and Bucky had been the last ones in there, no time to get out. 

Bucky… 

His thoughts broke off and he felt his heart leap into his throat, a leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach as he came completely to his senses, the weight on top of him warm and unyielding, and unmistakably that of Bucky. A low sound crept past his lips, harsh and ragged. 

As the explosion had started, bucky had leapt at him, knocking him away from a massive chunk of the ceiling that had been headed straight for him. He’d lost his shield seconds before that, had no means of protection. Instead Bucky had covered him, metal arm raised above his head, protecting both of them. 

“Buck? Bucky?” The urgency in his voice was tinged with a hint of panic, as he fought to get his hands free, feeling his way in the dark. Needed to know if Bucky was alive. He couldn’t be dead, couldn’t be… they had only been back out in the field together for a few months, they had only just… 

A sob of relief escaped him as he found Bucky’s throat, felt the pulse there, weak and growing weaker, but still there, feeling the shallow breaths that he was taking. He bit the inside of his lip, knowing that they were trapped, that he couldn’t move the rubble, not from where he was, trapped beneath Bucky. He swallowed hard, shifting as much as he could in the small amount of room that they had in the pocket of space amongst the rubble. He wasn’t in the best of shape he knew, broken ribs and cheekbone, bruised all over, but none of that mattered, it would heal fast enough. 

Comm link was down. 

He knew that the others would be searching for them, assuming that they were able to, but the building had been sprawling, a massive complex. He and Bucky had been going through as a two man destruction squad in the lower levels while Natasha, Clint and Tony had been in the upper levels. Sam had been outside with Bruce, ready to pick up any stragglers. He ran his tongue across his cracked, dry lips. They had trackers. They had trackers in their gear. The memory of that made a spark of hope bloom in his chest. It would be their best chance of being found, and found quickly. 

He couldn’t bring himself to move his fingers from Bucky’s throat, to stop feeling that beat that proved that he was still alive. 

He felt Bucky shift slightly, a split second before he spoke. “Steve?” His voice was a hoarse struggle, but at least it meant that he was conscious. “Stevie?” 

“Yeah Buck, m’here.” He replied, shifting his hand to brush his thumb across Bucky’s cheekbone, a familiar comforting gesture between them. He felt a sudden sick feeling as he felt the drying blood there, tacky beneath his touch. 

“You okay?” He could hear the strain in Bucky’s words. 

“I’m fine, Buck. You idiot, you...what were you thinking?” 

“Someone’s gotta protect you, punk. You don’t do a great job of it yourself.” Bucky choked back a laugh, and Steve felt the tremor that ran through him, gritted his teeth against the feeling of helplessness, the rising fear that ran through him. 

The metallic crackling hiss of his comm coming back to life cut off whatever reply he had been about to make, Tony’s voice coming through, strained and worried. “Hey, Capsicle? Freezerburn? Either of you copy? We’ve got Hulk on search and rescue detail, tracker showing your location.” 

“Copy. Need you to get here quickly. Med evac ASAP.” 

“Got it. What’s the problem?” 

“Buck’s in bad shape.” He didn’t give a damn if Tony heard the fear in his voice. 

“Gotta length of metal lodged through me.” Replied Bucky words a wet struggle. “Bleeding out.” 

He heard Tony’s momentary intake of breath. “Roger that. We’re on it.” 

“Move it, Stark.” Steve’s voice was like a whipcrack and he knew that Tony would be working as hard as he could, that they all would, that he was being unreasonable, but he couldn’t help it, couldn’t help the reaction. 

He stroked over Bucky’s cheekbone, moved his hand up into the dark hair, fingers shifting gently into the dark tangle, sticky with blood and dust. “Stay with me, Bucky.” 

“You’re gonna be okay Stevie. S’all I want.” 

“Buck…” The anguish in Steve’s voice was a palpable thing, penetrating even the fog that was surrounding Bucky’s mind. 

“M’tired, Steve.” 

“Please, Buck, just stay with me. They’re gonna get us out, I just need you to stay with me, okay?” 

“I’m trying to y’know. Don’t want to leave you, but if this is the end of the line for me, then you gotta know that I love you, and I don’t...shit. I don’t regret doing this.” He swallowed hard, words becoming more of a struggle. “I don’t want you blaming yourself, if, if I don’t make it through this. It was my choice and I’d make it again and again.” 

Steve nodded, twisting his head so that he could press his lips to Bucky’s forehead, feeling how cold he was, skin clammy. He swallowed hard, feeling an ache deep in his chest, hot tears prickling at his eyes. “Love you too Buck, but this ain’t the end of the line. Not for either of us.” He stated, continuing to talk softly, Bucky’s replies becoming further apart, breathing more laboured as time went on. 

He could feel his fear rising, gut twisting grief and fear running through him, despite forcing himself to remain outwardly calm, forcing himself to remain strong, to keep together for them both. Finally he heard the sounds of the rubble around them moving, the sound of concrete and metal being pulled away. He waited, listening to the sound of the Hulk grunting at Tony who was forcing him to slow down, to be careful, to make sure that they didn’t make anything cave in further. 

Finally daylight hit them and he could hear the sound of the evac helicopter, blinked against the sudden light, focussed on Bucky’s face, dead white beneath the blood and the dust. Bucky gave him a weary, twisted smile, eyes dull. “Looks like we made it, huh pal?” 

“Yeah, yeah we did.” He replied, swallowing hard as Bucky closed his eyes, finally losing the fight for consciousness, as though all that had been keeping him going was an iron determination to make sure that Steve got out of there. 

He closed his eyes for a couple of instants as the medical team took Bucky, loading him carefully into the helicopter, taking off immediately. For a couple of seconds Steve stood on the edge of the hole that they had been in, swaying slightly on his feet before Sam’s hand came down on his shoulder. “Time to get goin’ man. Need to get you patched up, you look like shit.” 

Steve shook his head, a broken laugh escaping him. “I need to be with him. Gotta know that he’s gonna make it, that he’s gonna be okay.” He replied, staggering slightly as he climbed over the rubble, shaking off Sam’s hand, ignoring the look that passed between him and Tony. The helicopter that was their for their extraction was waiting, with Clint perched on the edge of the bay door, a medic steri-stripping a cut across his forehead closed while Natasha stood watching him, arms crossed, a blank expression on her face. 

As Steve crossed to the helicopter she moved away from Clint, walking across to him, limping slightly as she did. “You need to get to him.” She stated coolly. “Because I know you, and I know him and he’s going to need somebody there when he wakes up. Doesn’t deal well with medical settings as you know.” He could hear the inflection of understanding behind her tone, because she knew what he had been through, knew what she and Clint had been through over the years. 

“I know.” He replied shortly, getting into the helicopter with her and Clint. The others weren’t far behind, and they were in the air quickly. Steve sat in silence, letting the conversation flow around him, struggling to focus on anything other than thinking about Bucky, the way that he’d been when he last saw him, wondering whether or not he would still be alive when they got to the medical facility. His thoughts were broken off by Natasha moving over to him, sitting beside him on the bench seat that ran along the side of the chopper. 

“Get out of your head. We will be there when we are there. You cannot influence anything at this point. Now, I need to ask you how you are because I’m not putting up with you collapsing because you hid an injury because of your pig headed stubbornness.” There was a flicker of affection behind her words, and something else that he couldn’t quite place as her gaze flicked to Clint for a heartbeat before turning back to him. 

“I’m okay. Fine. Enough. Bruised, broken ribs, think I’ve got a fractured cheekbone but, Nat, I’m fine. I just need to get there.” 

Her gaze rested on his face for a few more moments before she took his hand, squeezing it gently in an uncharacteristically affectionate gesture. “I know.” 

Clint leaned forward, speaking quietly enough that Bruce and Tony, sat further forward discussing something in rapid fire speak wouldn’t hear. “Look, Steve, we get it, we understand what you’re goin’ through right now. Nat and I, we’ve been in this kinda situation more times than I like to think about, and I’m bettin’ Sam’s no stranger to this either.” Sam’s nod confirmed Clint’s words and Clint sighed. “I’m not sayin’ this makes it any better, but I’m just sayin’ you’re surrounded by people right now who know what you’re goin’ through, who have been there.”   
Steve nodded, feeling a measure of calm coming over him at Clint’s words, pushing past the fear that he had been feeling, the sense of utter helplessness. Sam reached out, squeezing his shoulder gently. “We’ve got your back, Cap, same as we always do.” 

He nodded, forcing something approaching a smile to his lips as he looked between the three of them, three who had been through so much over the years, had suffered and had come out the other side. He saw the way that Clint had his hand resting over Natasha’s, his thumb stroking gently across her knuckles while she leaned almost imperceptibly against him. He could feel the connection there, same as he had with Bucky, and it made his chest ache again. “Thanks.” 

The journey felt as though it lasted hours, stretching painfully onwards until they finally landed and were escorted into the medical facility. Steve waved off the SHIELD medical staff who were there, forcing himself to remain calm. “Thank you, I’ll be just fine. Where’s Sergeant Barnes?” He asked, voice firm, brooking no argument. 

“He’s in surgery at the moment, Captain.” Replied one of the doctors. “Could you all please go through to one of the waiting rooms if you are not receiving treatment? Captain, if you could come with me, as Sergeant Barnes’ medical proxy you will need to be updated on his condition.” 

Steve swallowed and nodded, following the doctor through the corridors to where the OR was, taking a seat in a small antechamber. “If you would pardon me you look as though you are in need of medical attention yourself.” 

“I’ll be fine. Nothing that won’t fix itself quickly enough.” Replied Steve, feeling almost as though his body was somehow going through the motions of polite conversation without his mind being entirely plugged in to it. “Could you please update me on what’s happening with Bucky?” 

The doctor nodded, face schooled into a careful expression of neutrality. “Sergeant Barnes suffered severe abdominal trauma.” He stated and Steve nodded, still picturing the jagged shard of metal that had pierced through Bucky’s body, felt suddenly sick, forced himself to continue to listen. “This resulted in heavy blood loss and internal bleeding. He has several broken ribs, one of which punctured his lung, and several other more minor injuries. We are doing what we can for him, Captain Rogers, but if he was anyone else, save yourself of course, he would no longer be with us. The serum is what’s giving him a chance, but the next twenty four hours will be critical.” 

“Thank you, Doctor…” He read the Doctor’s name tag. “Rosen.” 

“You can wait here, or you can wait with the rest of your party. I would suggest that you allow yourself to be cleaned up and that you get changed. He will not be out of surgery for a while yet, and, if I might say, you will be more use to him if you take care of yourself first.” 

He stood up without another word, the Doctor’s speech replaying in his head, over and over. He felt as though he was swimming through a fog as he made his way back to the waiting room with Doctor Rosen beside him. He felt himself going through the motions, telling the others what he knew, allowing himself to be taken away and patched up, accepting some generic SHIELD pants and a shirt from the on site store that was kept there, changing out of his filthy and bloodstained suit. He went back to the waiting room, sitting down with a soft sigh next to Clint. Sam, Natasha, Tony and Bruce had apparently gone to the cafeteria, Bruce in dire need of food and sleep. 

Clint glanced across at him. “Figured maybe you didn’t want to be left alone. Too easy to get lost in your own head.” 

“Yeah, could say that.” Replied Steve with a slightly rueful smile. “I keep replaying it in my head you know, trying to work out if I could have done anything differently.” 

“Barnes obviously didn’t think so otherwise he wouldn’t have thrown himself your way to save your ass. He’s not stupid or particularly reckless.” Replied Clint with a slight shrug. “If there had been another way he would have taken it.” 

Steve let out a sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. Clint was right. He knew that in the logical part of his mind. The illogical part was still struggling with it. “You’re right.” He admitted with a slight smile. “You don’t have to wait here with me, I’ll be fine.” 

“You want me to go?” Asked Clint, giving him a knowing look. “I don’t think you actually do. Nat’s gonna bring some food back for the both of us, and no I don’t give a damn whether you think you can eat or not. I’m pretty shit at the mother hen routine but just eat something when it’s handed to you.” 

“How do you do this?” He asked finally. “How do you and Nat deal with this? The waiting, the not knowing? It nearly killed me when I found out that Buck was in the Hydra base the first time round. Now I’ve just got him back and this…” 

“You know, sometimes I forget, I think we all forget that you’re still so damn young to have gone through so much shit. You’ve got this thing about you, Cap that makes people follow you, and hell we all forget that you’re really still only in your twenties.” Clint shook his head and sat back. “How do Nat and I deal with it? Far too much practice. There’s no easy answer to that, Cap. It doesn’t get any easier no matter how many times you do it. You just gotta keep goin’. And I know that’s not a helpful answer, but when you’re in this line of work, you know that each and every mission could be the last one, and I guess, I guess we just tend to live with that and make the most of the lives we have.” 

Steve nodded wearily. “I guess it’s the answer I expected. You and Nat…” 

Clint let out a crack of laughter. “Your timing’s impeccable. But I know why you’re askin’. More inclined to tell you than Tony, no matter how much he’s tried to find out exactly what the nature of our relationship is.” He let out a soft huff of a sigh. “Look, what you gotta understand is that whatever I tell you, this is as far as it goes, unless Nat wants it to go further. Yeah, we’re together. Have been since a year or so after I brought her in to work for SHIELD. It’s not something we particularly advertise, but believe me, I would tear down cities for her.” 

“I get the feeling that’s mutual.” 

Clint’s lips twitched into a grin. “Yeah. It is. We just tend not to advertise it. There’s no need to, and sometimes it’s good to keep people guessing.” 

Steve chuckled, glancing up as Natasha came back in with Sam, arms full of sandwiches and chocolate bars. “None of this is great but it’s sustenance. Eat.” She said, putting it down on the low table on top of the magazines that had been put there, so many years out of date that Steve vaguely wondered if anyone ever read them. 

He ate mechanically, not really tasting the food, settling back into silence as the others kept up a steady buzz of conversation. He appreciated the company if nothing else. He lost track of how much time had passed, refusing to look at the clock, knowing that it would just make it that much worse. He looked at the door as soon as he heard the soft click of the handle moving for it to open. Dr Rosen stood on the threshold. “Captain Rogers? Sergeant Barnes is out of surgery and we’ve moved him to a private room. He’s doing well, although as I warned you before, the next twenty four hours will be critical. You may go in and see him however, should you wish.” 

Steve felt his mouth go dry, stood up jerkily and wordlessly followed Dr Rosen from the room. They traversed the corridors to where Bucky had been taken, and followed him in. He turned to thank the doctor, but he had already left, the door clicking closed behind him. Steve swallowed hard, listening to the steady beeping of machines, trying to filter out the smell of antiseptic and chemicals that always seemed to pervade medical facilities as he walked slowly forward towards the bed where Bucky lay. 

He looked so young. 

That was his first thought, that lying there, he just looked so damn young, looked too young to have gone to war, too young to have done any of the things that had happened over the last seventy years. Looked like the guy who had left Brooklyn back in the forties, before he had suffered and before the weight and shadows of everything that had come in between had started to fall upon him. 

He drew closer, seeing his dead white face, dark circles beneath his eyes, looked at the oxygen tubes, the IV drip, the snaking wires of the heart monitors that crossed his body, the bruises visible on his face and felt his chest constrict suddenly. He pulled up a chair next to the bed, taking Bucky’s left hand in his, leaning forward, elbows on the edge of the bed, resting his forehead against Bucky’s knuckles, the metal cool beneath his skin. “Shit, Bucky…” He muttered softly. “The hell have you done to yourself?” He swallowed, shifted slightly, his ribs sending a sudden flare of pain through his side as he did. “Look, you and me, we’ve been through a lot, together, and apart, and hell, I’ve only just got you back, really… I know it’s selfish as hell of me, Buck, but I can’t lose you, not again. So do me a favour, huh? Just, keep fighting… we had a whole load of plans we made, s’Christmas in a week or so and this is gettin’ to be a damn bad habit of yours…” He broke off, knowing that he was rambling, swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. 

He looked up again, reached out, lightly tracing his fingers across Bucky’s cheek, feeling how cool his skin was, feeling fear hitching in his chest again. Twenty four hours. If he could make it through the next twenty four hours then he should have made it. Would be okay. He looked almost peaceful, the evidence of the worst injuries hidden beneath the blanket that covered him up to his chest. He knew that they were constantly pumping him full of painkillers, stronger doses than they would do in any other situation. He shared the same metabolism as Steve, burned through anything else so quickly it rendered it pointless. Steve sighed softly, settling himself in for a long wait, sending up a soft prayer as he did, not letting go of Bucky’s hand. 

The next eighteen hours were a slice of hell for him, constantly watchful, unable to sleep, leaving Bucky’s side only when he had to. Clint, Sam and Natasha kept him company, Tony having taken Bruce back home again, saying that he was pretty damn sure that neither Steve nor Bucky needed the whole crew fussing around them. Steve had nodded, not worried whether they were there or not. 

There was nothing that any of them could do. It was all up to Bucky, and that was in part what made it so damn hard, because there was nothing he could do, because his best friend, partner, lover, hell his goddamn soulmate’s life was hanging in the balance and there was nothing that he could do except wait. After eighteen hours Doctor Rosen told him that they could move his status from critical to serious but stable, and Steve let out a soft sigh of relief. Enough that he could relax, very slightly. 

Sam shook his head. “Lot to be said for bein’ a supersoldier, huh?” 

“It has its perks.” Replied Steve drily, with the vaguest hint of a smile. “Look, you guys go, they’ve said he’s stable, and I can stay with him.” 

“All right.” Natasha stood up, cupping his face for an instant, looking down at him seriously. “But keep us updated, if you need us, if anything changes, you know where we are.” 

He watched as they left, then turned his attention back to Bucky, not sure whether he was imagining the slight hint of colour in his face or not. He stayed there for another four hours in silence, reading a few of the magazines that Natasha had left with him, before he suddenly froze, feeling Bucky’s fingers twitch slightly beneath his, flexing and squeezing his tightly. He looked up, dropping the magazine to the floor to see Bucky looking at him, grey eyes holding a hint of confusion that rapidly changed the warmth. “You look like shit.” He said, voice rough as he looked at Steve. 

“Not lookin’ so hot yourself, Buck.” He replied with a soft laugh, squeezing Bucky’s hand back, the sudden relief making him feel almost dizzy.


	2. Coming back round

Bucky searched Steve’s face, seeing the dark bruises against pale skin, the overly bright eyes that spoke of tears he wasn’t letting fall. He knew where he was, had picked up on that in the few seconds he’d been awake before he had squeezed Steve’s hand. He felt somewhat like he was floating, not feeling pain except as a slight sensation at the back of his mind, easy enough to ignore. Apparently they had him dosed up on the good stuff. “How long was I out?” He asked, staring at the clock with a frown, realising that it meant not a damn thing because he had no idea what time it had been when the building had gone down, or he had a general idea of time, but he didn’t know how long he’d been out in the rubble, how long they had been trapped there. Time was too fluid when he’d been in and out of consciousness. 

“It’s been a while.” There was an almost guilty look on Steve’s face and Bucky raised one eyebrow at him. 

“Just tell me how long, punk. Or do I gotta beat it outta you?” He swallowed, knowing damn well that he wouldn’t lay a finger on Steve, not that way, never had, not of his own volition. But the look on Steve’s face meant he’d been out a long time and that Steve had been with him the entire time and hadn’t slept… 

“From when they brought you in until now, well you’ve been in this room for twenty two hours, before that, you were in surgery for a few… it’s been over twenty four hours.” 

“Fuck.” Bucky digested the information, looking at Steve again, feeling the need to reassure himself again that he was okay, that he was safe, that it had all been worth it. “When do I get out of here?” 

“They haven’t said.” Steve shrugged and Bucky rolled his eyes. “They are just going to monitor the situation. They’re not really used to dealing with patients with our kind of accelerated healing so they don’t want to say anything too definite. It was touch and go for a while, Buck…” 

“What’s the damage?” He asked, needing to get an idea, needing to know. After Hydra, after everything that had happened, he couldn’t not know, knew that Steve wouldn’t hide anything from him. 

“Well you did have a chunk of building through you, so they said pretty major abdominal injuries, internal bleeding, broken ribs and a punctured lung.” He could see the way that Steve’s expression tightened as he spoke, squeezed his hand again. 

“I’m gonna be fine, Stevie. Give me a few days okay?” It had been about what he had expected, none of that came as a surprise to him. If anything it had been more of a surprise to actually wake up. 

He drew in a slow breath, closing his eyes for a few seconds, feeling the floating sensation begin to take over before forcing himself awake again. 

“I was scared, Buck. So fucking scared.” Steve’s voice was soft, full of a raw pain and honesty that made him ache inside and he suddenly felt the urge to pull Steve into his arms, hold him there and tell him that it was all okay. Except he knew it wasn’t, knew how he would feel if the situations had been reversed. Knew that Steve had had to watch him almost die for the second time and could only imagine what that had been like for him. At the same time there had been no way that he could have just let Steve die, not without trying to save him. 

“I’m sorry, Stevie, but I couldn’t just let you die… you know that.” 

“I know.” Steve’s voice was low but he nodded, swallowing hard. “I know, because if the situations were reversed I would have done the same damn thing.” 

Bucky smiled, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over him. “I think I’m gonna sleep now, but Steve, I’m gonna be fine, so for fuck’s sake get some sleep yourself. I’ll still be here when you wake up, okay?” 

“You’d best be.” 

Bucky shook his head slightly as he closed his eyes, letting the darkness claim him once again, swimming in a blissfully dreamless sleep. 

When he woke up again it was to see Steve still sat beside him, head back, snoring lightly in the chair, sprawled out. He couldn’t help the feeling of amusement that ran through him, looking at him lying like that. He still had a magazine spread out over his chest where he’s obviously fallen asleep reading it, giving in to the obvious exhaustion that he’d been feeling. He stayed silent, just watching him, waiting for him to wake up. He’d been through enough, needed to have some time to recover himself, needed to be able to heal up. The bruises on Steve’s face and exposed arms were already fading, and Bucky knew that his own would be as well. 

He could feel they’d lowered his drug dose while he’d been out, no longer taking the full edge off the pain as it had before. It was still easy enough for him to live with. He’d dealt with a lot worse. 

The next few days he began to feel more antsy, just wanting to get home, away from the place, away from the constant poking and prodding, the tests that they ran on him. Finally, after four days he shook his head, tugging the IV free from his arm, pulling the heart monitor pads from his chest and threw back the blankets, looking at Steve who had put down the book that he’d been reading with his feet up on the edge of the bed with an expression of defiance, one that brooked no argument. “I’m getting the hell out of here. I am done with this. I’m gonna be just fine, I just need to get home.” 

“Buck…” 

“C’mon, I’m fine, I will be fine, just, get me some proper clothes because I think that the main part of my tac gear is probably ruined, and let’s just go home.” He said, easing himself up into a sitting position, feeling his body protesting, sharp pains running through him. Nothing that wasn’t healing. He knew himself pretty well, knew how much damage he could take, knew that he wasn’t gaining anything by still being in a medical facility save for reassuring SHIELD that one of their top assets was healing well. He saw the conflict play across Steve’s face before Steve gave a reluctant laugh. 

“Fine, just let me get you some clothes, don’t want you wandering around with your ass hanging out. Then I’ll get Stark to send one of his cars round to pick us up.” 

Bucky grinned and nodded. “Sure. But you know you’d love me walkin’ round with my ass hanging out. Don’t pretend that you wouldn’t.” 

“Hey, I’m Captain America right? Morally upstanding…” 

“Bullshit.” Bucky cut in with a laugh. “I don’t know why the hell anyone thinks that, I mean, really. Don’t get me started. But as far as I’m concerned you’re Steve Rogers and the Steve I know has a healthy appreciation for my ass on display.” 

“You’re gonna ruin my reputation.” Replied Steve, going to the bag that Natasha had dropped off for them with changes of clothes for Steve. He tossed over a set of his clothes to land on the bed by Bucky before walking over himself. 

“Your undeserved reputation if you ask me.” Bucky smirked as he let Steve undo the gown that he’d had to wear sitting unashamedly naked in front of Steve before reaching for the clothes. 

“Good job nobody asks you then isn’t it?” Retorted Steve. 

Bucky shrugged slightly, the movement careful as he began getting dressed, accepting Steve’s help, seeing how his gaze went to the bandages around his torso. He grabbed Steve’s chin, forcing him to look up at him. “Don’t even start thinking any of the shit that I know you are going to. Not your fault. I’m fine. That’s an end to it.” 

“Jerk.” 

“And you’re a punk. Don’t add stupid to it huh?” 

“How can I? You got all that.” 

Bucky let out a huff of laughter as Steve helped him pull on a shirt and sat on the edge of the bed feeling suddenly exhausted again. “Fuck. Right. I’m gonna need to borrow your shoes as well. Ring Stark and I’ll sign whatever release forms it is they need me to do.” He left Steve to make the call, then pressed the button by the bed that would summon one of the nursing staff. 

“Sister…” He greeted as the nurse came in. “Could you get me whatever forms I need to sign to get out of here?” 

“Sergeant Barnes, I’m under instructions that you’re to stay here, I don’t know if I can…” 

“Of course you can. You just go, pick up the forms and bring ‘em to me. I’m discharging myself now, and heading home with Captain Rogers here. S’far as I’m aware you have no legal right to hold me if I sign the correct paperwork…” 

“No, Sergeant, but medical advice is that…” 

“Sister, current medical best practice doesn’t tend to cover supersoldiers, because they didn’t write a manual when they made Steve, and they sure as hell didn’t have one when they were doing their mad scientist bit with me. None of this is on you, so please, just get the forms and I can get the hell outta here.” 

With a shrug she turned and walked away, footsteps a sharp rhythm on the tiled floor. Bucky watched her go, letting out a soft sigh, waiting for the sound of her coming back again, hearing Steve stood over by the window, evidently talking to Pepper on the phone, organising for someone to come and pick them up. Probably the most efficient way of doing things although he was pretty sure that Pepper had far better things to do with her time. 

He could feel the pain level beginning to rise as he sat there waiting, pushed the thought down. Steve finished on the phone just as the nurse came back in, handing him some forms and a pen. He filled them out, signing them off, glancing up as Steve sat on the edge of the bed with him. 

“You sure about this?” 

“You know that I am. I just want to get home, get things back to normal.” He replied, looking at Steve, feeling a slight flicker of something, something approaching irritation. “I’m lookin’ forward to being able to fuck you senseless. You know since I’ve been here you’ve barely even kissed me.” 

The look on Steve’s face is one of hurt and confusion and Bucky felt a brief moment of remorse that he pushed down. “Buck, I didn’t want to hurt you…” 

“You wouldn’t. I’m not gonna break, you know this. My face is fine, s’just my chest and stomach.” 

He looked at Steve for a few seconds, watched as he scrubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I just… almost losing you, then I just didn’t want…” 

“Didn’t want what?” Asked Bucky, looking at him directly. “You bein’ an idiot again? Because that’s either going to end with the words didn’t want me, or didn’t want to hurt me and both are pretty damn stupid. Hell if I could the moment I woke up I would have pulled you down with me and not let you out of bed. Wasn’t really an option though.” 

Steve shook his head. “Stop trying to pick a fight because you’re hurting. I know that’s what you’re doing. You got a point, I’ll give you that, I shouldn’t have held back, I should have...because fuck knows I want to. I almost lost you Buck, again...you think I wouldn’t want to make the most of every damn second?” 

“Why are you always right?” Asked Bucky with a rueful laugh, feeling his lacerated temper calming as he signed the last form. He got to his feet, feeling the tug and pull in his chest and stomach, gritting his teeth as he straightened up. “Grab the bag, we’ll drop these off at the desk on the way back.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Sir, yes sir.” 

“Anyone ever told you that sarcasm doesn’t suit you?” 

Bucky picked up the forms and pen and began moving towards the door. He gritted his teeth as he got to the doorway, leaning against the doorframe as he waited for Steve, feeling heavy frustration roll through him. He could read the expression on Steve’s face, waited for the inevitable comment with narrowed eyes. He knew that the way he was feeling was making him particularly prickly, that his temper was frayed to hell. Instead Steve just shook his head slightly and moved into Bucky’s space, bag slung over his shoulder and pulled him into a kiss. 

It was hard and it was needy and it was desperate and it reminded him of just how much Steve had suffered, just how hard it had been for him. As they broke apart Steve gave him a serious look. “I have wanted to do that to you since you opened your damn eyes you idiot. And believe me, when you can, I want to do a hell of a lot more. Now, put your arm round me and use me to lean on because I know damn well you’re hurting.” 

He rolled his eyes, flicked his tongue across his lips for a second, as though still tasting Steve there. “I’m not even gonna argue.” He replied, putting his arm round Steve’s shoulders, letting him take his weight, knowing that Steve could take it easily. It helped. It made it a bit easier at least, but it was still hard going heading down through the facility and out to where the car would meet them. By the time they got down there he could feel his injuries burning, his head swimming. He took slow, shallow breaths, leaning more heavily on Steve. “Don’t say a damn word.” 

“Wouldn’t dare.” Replied Steve with a shit-eating grin, and Bucky struggled with himself deciding whether he wanted to kiss him or kick him. “They shouldn’t be long, Pepper said she was sending Happy over straight away. Probably just traffic.” 

Bucky nodded, falling silent, insensibly grateful when a sleek black car pulled up at the side of the road and Happy got out, greeting them both with a smile and a nod. The ride back to their Brooklyn apartment was made in silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts as they looked out at the grey streets, the passers by muffled up in thick coats and bright scarves, the shop windows filled with Christmas displays. He remembered the last time he’d spent Christmas in New York, the year before he shipped out for Europe. It hadn’t looked so different, not really. The streets were still busy, the cars had changed, but the press of people was the same, the brightly lit windows. He idly traced his fingers across Steve’s knuckles where Steve’s hand was resting on his thigh, a warm weight that he could feel through the fabric of his jeans. 

When they got back into the apartment he could feel himself begin to relax. It was exactly as they’d left it, slightly messy, his hoodie still draped over the back of the couch, Steve’s shoes kicked off by the coffee table, a few books and sketchpads littered around, but that just made it feel good to come home to. Lived in. Like a home. There was a box of Christmas decorations that they had been planning to put up when they got back from the mission, a real tree in the corner, waiting for lights and ornaments, the scent of it filling the room. He knew that Natasha had been in to water it, keeping it alive and he smiled slightly, heading for the couch. He heard Steve drop the bag down with a soft thump and he paused for a second, leaning against the back of the couch before moving round and lying down, half propped up against the cushions at one end of the couch. That he knew was different, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Natasha had sorted it out the last time she’d been there. 

He couldn’t help the soft sigh of relief that escaped him as he lay down, kicking off Steve’s shoes, letting them fall to the floor with a thud. “You got no idea how good it feels to be home.” He stated, looking up at Steve who was heading towards the kitchen. 

“I don’t know. I think I have an idea.” He retorted, looking back over his shoulder. “I’m making coffee, you want one? Then I’m thinkin’ we decorate the apartment. It’s only a couple of days until Christmas and…” He broke off for a second and Bucky could almost hear the memories flowing through Steve’s mind, could feel them wrapping around him as well. 

“Yeah, yeah I know. Okay I’ll have a coffee.” He replied, watching as Steve left the room and he began to hear the sounds of him puttering around in the kitchen, making the coffee, the scent beginning to make its way through the apartment. Bucky closed his eyes for a few seconds, feeling himself relaxing as his mind and body began to truly register that he was back home once again. It took the edge off his feeling of having to be constantly on guard, constantly checking for threats. It was why he had forced them to reduce the pain meds when he’d been in the SHIELD hospital, unable to deal with the sensation of no longer being in control, no longer entirely aware of his surroundings. 

He let his mind stray back to the last Christmas that he could remember with Steve, when they had been at home, before they had spent Christmas overseas, camped out in the snow and mud, freezing cold. He remembered that their crappy apartment had been freezing, they hadn’t had the money to heat it properly, and they’d just shoved on extra layers of jumpers and thick wool socks. They had had a small tree, had decorated it with battered old ornaments that had been left to Steve with the rest of his parent’s belongings. There had been the sound in the background of a record playing and he frowned as he tugged at the memory, trying to remember what it was. 

It came to him and he felt a slight smile just curving the corners of his lips as he considered it. He carefully pushed himself up, getting to his feet, moving across the lounge on silent feet to the record player. He gritted his teeth, stifling a groan as he crouched down, going through their record collection until he found the one that he wanted. He bit the inside of his lip, drawing in a couple of slow breaths as he used the edge of the cabinet to pull himself up, a sudden stab of pain making him freeze for a second or two. He forced control over himself and carried on putting the record on, feeling a wave of nostalgic warmth as the soft crackle of the record began and the familiar strains of Glenn Miller’s ‘In the Mood’ began filtering round the apartment. 

Seconds later Steve appeared in the kitchen doorway, a cup of coffee in each hand, a smile on his face as he shook his head slightly. “I didn’t know that you remembered…” 

“I remember more than you think.” Retorted Bucky, seeing the play of emotion over Steve’s face. “Thought that maybe we could listen to it while you decorate the apartment?” 

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Replied Steve, going and putting the mugs on the coffee table, one of them in easy reach of the couch. “You okay?” 

Bucky gave him a wry smile, hearing the unspoken question of, do you want or need any help, that hid behind Steve’s words. “Yeah, I’m fine. Fuck, you know how much I hate this?” 

“Yeah, I know, Buck. We’ve all been there though. You’re lucky you’ll only be out of commission for a couple of weeks tops. Less probably.” 

“I know, I know. Hell I’m lucky I’m still breathing, right? Which reminds me, I should have asked before I let you lug my ass around earlier, how are your ribs?” He frowned as he made his way back to the couch, settling back down again, picking up his mug of coffee, taking a sip of the steaming liquid, reflecting on how good it was to have a decent cup. 

“Gettin’ there. Few more days and they should be fine again. Normally takes about a week.” 

“What the hell kinda life do we lead when ‘normally’ is a word you use for how long broken ribs take to heal?” Asked Bucky with a slightly dark laugh and a shake of his head. It was a strange life, but one that they both knew they had been made for, each in their own way. Steve driven by his need to use the gift he had been given to make the world a better place, to be a protector, Bucky by his need for redemption, and a need to protect Steve, make damn sure that nothing would happen to him, the same as he’d been doing since they were kids. 

“An interesting one.” Retorted Steve drily, going across to the box of ornaments, pulling them all out, setting them out on the table and the floor. Bucky couldn’t help the smile on his face as he watched Steve beginning to put up the ornaments, decorating the tree and the rest of the apartment. He felt himself beginning to doze, slipping in and out of sleep, noted that Steve had lit the wood burner, filling the room with a soft glow. He let himself relax, watching as Steve moved around, appreciating the way that his broad shoulders filled his shirt, the way it hitched up exposing a line of skin as he reached up to put up a garland along the top of the window, the way he moved, sure and steady. He felt a warmth pooling deep in his stomach, one that he couldn’t do anything about, but that he had every intention of doing in the next couple of days. With that thought in his mind he let sleep slowly claim him. 

The next few days in the run up to Christmas were mostly spent by Bucky lounging around on the couch, feeling better as each day went by, just enjoying some time with Steve where neither of them was being called out on a mission, unless something truly disastrous happened, where they could just be themselves, live normal lives. Outside the skies had filled with snow clouds and the streets and buildings of the city were coated in white. On Christmas Eve Steve had gone out to do some last minute shopping and Bucky remained behind, reading a book, waving Steve off. He had no desire to go out into the crowded streets, seething with people, battle through the subways. 

Instead he waited until Steve got back, late in the evening with several bags that he took into the spare room with a bunch of wrapping paper and didn’t emerge for another hour. By the time they’d eaten and washed up it was late and the sound of his phone ringing made Bucky frown slightly. 

“Nat?” 

“Who else would it be on this number? Going senile, James?” 

“Hilarious.” His voice was desert dry. 

“Or did you just forget who I am?” 

“Is there a point to this or are you just ringing to give me shit?” He couldn’t help amusement he felt, knew that she was just doing it for fun, was glad that she still had that within her, the capacity to do so after everything, glad that they could still have that kind of relationship. 

“Fun though that is, I was ringing to check that you and Steve are still on for tomorrow afternoon? Tony said that food will be done for around three, so head on over to the tower for around two.” 

“Sure, that’s fine. Did you…” 

“Of course I did.” 

“Thanks, Nat.” 

“You owe me.” 

“The thought terrifies me. We’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Until tomorrow.” 

He hung up and turned to Steve, looking at him as he sat there, utterly relaxed, completely at home. His hair was slightly mussed, and there was a warm smile on his lips, blue eyes holding the same warmth. Sometimes it was hard to believe that Steve was still there, still his, that they were together after everything that had happened, still young, still alive. He gave Steve a look, holding out his hand. “C’mon Rogers. Early night, we’ve got a long day tomorrow.” 

“We might be in our nineties but I don’t think that’s a concern.” 

“Fine. I thought that sounded better than, get your ass up, I have an overwhelming need to fuck you senseless.” Retorted Bucky, one eyebrow raised, grinning as Steve burst out laughing. 

“No happy medium?” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” He took Steve’s hand, pulling him up, taking him through into their bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind them, turning to push Steve up against it, kissing him, hard and hungry. He needed him in those moments, needed to have him close, needed to feel alive, to have him. Steve’s hands tightened against his back, pulling him closer. He pulled back for half a second, seeing the dark lust in Steve’s eyes, and held his hands against Steve’s hips, pulling them together, feeling him already hard. 

Bucky smiled, a predatory expression. There had been a time when he’d had to be more careful with Steve, then years later when Steve had had to have the same care with him. Now they were evenly matched, neither had to hold back with the other and it was a refreshing, welcome change.


	3. Home and dry

Bucky tugged at the bottom of Steve’s t-shirt. “Get this off.” 

“So fucking demanding.” Steve retorted, feeling the breath catch in his throat as Bucky snarled slightly, suddenly desperate and needy. He pulled his shirt off, letting it drop to the floor, watching as Bucky pulled off his own. It was the first time Bucky had let him see the aftermath of the damage that had been done to him, the dark scars against far paler skin, as neat as they could be after the jagged metal that had speared him. He hissed softly and Bucky shook his head, noting Steve’s gaze. 

“They’ll fade to nothing soon enough. You know how it is.” He replied, kicking off his pants, stripping down so that he was stood naked and unashamed in front of Steve. 

Steve took a moment to appreciate the view before stripping down himself, grinning as Bucky growled softly, pressing a hand to the centre of his chest, pushing him down onto the bed. “So fuckin’ perfect… sometimes I gotta wonder what I did to deserve this.” He stated, his eyes roaming over Steve’s body, a lascivious smirk on his face. 

“I can think of a few things.” Replied Steve, reaching up to pull Bucky down with him. “But you can talk later, there’s gotta be a better use for your mouth right now.” 

“I’m gonna make damn sure you can’t talk soon enough.” Retorted Bucky, kissing Steve savagely, feeling him moan against his mouth. He would make good on his words, would take Steve to the edge, until he was completely incoherent then fuck him into the mattress. 

“That a challenge?” Steve’s breath hitched as Bucky moved down his body. 

“Take it as you like.” 

They finally fell asleep wrapped around each other, a peaceful sleep that lasted until the grey light of dawn crept through the curtains, falling across Steve’s face. He blinked, shifting slightly to free up his arm which had gone dead where Bucky had fallen asleep on it. Bucky stirred slightly, muttering something under his breath before burying his face in the pillow, evidently awake and not particularly enamoured with the prospect. Steve grinned to himself. He had always woken early, Bucky had never been a morning person. He reached over, tucking some wayward strands of hair behind Bucky’s ear. “You know, burying your face in the pillow ain’t gonna stop the fact that it’s morning.” 

“I can try.” Bucky’s reply was muffled but held an edge of amusement. 

Steve rolled his eyes, still smiling as he sat up, moving Bucky’s arm that was draped over him, looking down at him with affection and a hint of disbelief. It had been less than a year since they had faced off, since Bucky had tried to kill him, since they had hunted him down and brought him in. He’d gone from being utterly withdrawn, confused, hurt, angry, violent and unpredictable to where he was now. Still haunted at times, still woken by nightmares and still holding onto a heavy load of guilt, but he was miles from where he had been. Now he was sprawled across half the bed, the duvet shifted down to his waist, lying on his front, one hand under the pillow, face pressed into it, hair coming down from the tie he’d left it in, the cool morning light playing over his skin, gleaming from his metal arm. Steve felt an urge to reach for his sketch book but Bucky nudged him with his knee, breaking his reverie. 

“I can feel you lookin’ at me Steve and I swear that if you go for your sketchbook instead of the coffee I’m gonna…” 

“Gonna what, Buck? Because that’s a pretty poor attempt at a threat…” Steve chuckled as Bucky raised the hand that wasn’t under the pillow to flip him off. 

“S’too early for threats. Unless there’s a Hydra agent or ten about to break into the apartment? I could probably muster up a threat or two then.” Bucky raised his head to look at Steve, a sleepy grin on his face as he did. 

“As far as I know there isn’t but I’m pretty sure if there was, a threat or two would be the least you’d be mustering up.” Steve was fairly certain he knew where most of the weapons were stashed around the apartment but he wouldn’t be too surprised if there were some he’d missed. 

“Admittedly.” Bucky replied, pulling his hand out from beneath the pillow, waving a knife lazily before thrusting it back under again. “But I wouldn’t be too happy having to fight off Hydra stark naked.” 

“Please don’t mention stark and naked in the same sentence again.” Retorted Steve, getting out of bed with a chuckle, pulling on a pair of pyjama bottoms. 

“What would you prefer? Buck naked?” Bucky laughed at Steve’s expression, a mixture of despair and trying hard not to burst out laughing. 

“I’m not gonna dignify that with a response.” Steve turned and walked out of the bedroom leaving Bucky still chuckling as he put his head back down on the pillow. 

“Merry Christmas by the way, punk.” He called out, rolling over, looking at the door where Steve had just left. 

“Same to you, jerk.” Came the muffled reply from the kitchen. 

Bucky laughed, lying back, staring up at the ceiling for a few moments, wondering how the hell he’d got so lucky. He got up, pulled on a pair of underpants and re-tied his hair before wandering through into the kitchen where Steve was making coffee, stirring a pan of oatmeal on the stove. Bucky picked up one of the mugs of coffee, swallowing it down in a few mouthfuls before pressing a kiss to the back of Steve’s shoulder as he stood at the stove. “I meant it you know, Merry Christmas. First one together since what, forty….hmmm…” 

“The one before you shipped out or that one in France?” 

“Are you counting the one in France?” 

Steve chuckled as he stirred the oatmeal, thinking back to the last Christmas they’d had together in France, the year before Bucky fell. “You’re tellin’ me that you don’t think with fondness about Monty’s faux-goose? Or Dugan’s mock-Christmas pudding?” 

Bucky grinned as he took down the bowls, passing them over to Steve. “I still don’t know what the hell he put together to make up that faux-goose. I’m not even sure I want to know. As for that Christmas pudding, but the time he’d finished setting the goddamn thing alight it was more Christmas-cinder than Christmas pudding.” 

Steve chuckled and nodded. “It was still good though.” 

“The brandy helped. I don’t know where Dernier got that from, but he swore up and down it was the best Nantes brandy.” 

“Like any of us woulda known the difference.” Steve ladled the oatmeal into bowls and Bucky stuck his finger in one, licking it off. 

Full of cream and sugar, overly sweet and the exact sort of thing that rationing and the depression had meant that they hadn’t been able to have and that Steve seemed to delight in having now. It wasn’t as if their metabolisms wouldn’t burn it off anyway. “We wouldn’t.” Replied Bucky quietly. “But none of us gave a damn did we? Maybe that is a Christmas I want to remember.” 

Steve turned to him, a mirror of his melancholy expression on his face. “Yeah. Same.” 

“I miss ‘em.” Admitted Bucky quietly, a slightly twisted smile flashing onto his face for a couple of seconds. “They were like family, and fuck. I miss ‘em.” 

“I know. It gets easier to bear but I still miss ‘em all. Guess I just try and think about the fact that they all made it home, all got to live their lives and die peacefully y’know?” Steve’s voice was low and grave and Bucky could feel the weight of the years pressing around them, old ghosts that surrounded them both. 

Bucky drew in a long, slow breath, expelling it with a soft huff as he pulled Steve in close, feeling Steve wrap his arms around him. “They’d be happy for us, I think. Couldn’t pull the wool over their eyes, not about the fact we were together.” 

“More important things for them to give a damn about, like staying alive.” Replied Steve with a slight shrug. The Commandos had been a mixed bunch, a group of misfits thrown together who had changed the course of the war together. Neither he, nor Bucky had ever said that they were together during that time, had made damn sure to make it look as though they weren’t, Steve courting Peggy who was sharp as a damn tack, knew what was going on. She’d even told Steve so, told him that not everyone would be as understanding as her so he and Barnes had better tread carefully. None of the rest of the Commandos had mentioned a thing, none had questioned the way that Steve and Bucky always shared a tent together, sat together. 

When Bucky had fallen, Falsworth had taken Steve to one side, giving him a photograph of Bucky, one that they had taken while they were all on leave in London together, before Steve had joined them. Had just handed it to him wordlessly with a nod and a pat on the shoulder. Steve had had it tucked into his suit, pressed up against his heart when the plane had gone down. 

Bucky looked up at Steve, saw the expression on his face and kissed him gently. “Don’t go losin’ yourself in your head, Stevie.” He murmured, smoothing his thumb across Steve’s cheekbone. “Nothin’ we can do to change the past, and they’d want us to live for the present.” 

“When did you get wise?” Retorted Steve, a half-smile transforming his expression again. Bucky knew damn well that Steve had struggled, had had to deal with depression and PTSD and had done it alone because he was too damn stubborn to ask for help, because he didn’t know anybody well enough to ask for what he couldn’t articulate that he needed. It was why as soon as he had his mind in enough order to understand that, he had made it his mission to help Steve as much as Steve was helping him. 

“Guess it was when I started listening to you a bit more.” He replied, picking up one of the bowls, taking it through to the lounge, knowing that Steve would follow him. He switched on the lights on the Christmas tree, and put some music on in the background, sitting on the couch, relaxing in the early morning, letting the memories slowly dissipate like wisps of morning mist and fog. They were there together, that was what was the most important thing. 

Once they’d finished eating Steve went to the tree, taking out a small box from beneath it, wrapped in dark blue paper, finished with a yellow bow. “I got this for you. I figured, maybe you’d like to open it here, not later in front of everyone.” 

Bucky smiled slightly, taking the box. “You know I haven’t been shopping…” 

“Yeah and I know Natasha took out your list with strict instructions of what to get for everyone and that all your presents will be at the tower already.” Replied Steve with a chuckle. “Doesn’t matter, just, open it.” 

Bucky shrugged, carefully tearing open the paper, setting it aside as he took out a wooden box, simple and giving nothing away about what it contained. He glanced up at Steve, seeing an expression on his face that he couldn’t quite fathom, something that was a mixture of trepidation and perhaps hope. He turned his attention back to the box, opening it slowly. 

What lay inside made the breath freeze in his lungs and he suddenly felt completely cold. He reached into the box, his fingers shaking as he picked up what lay inside. Dog tags. One of his original ones, the other a newer replica of one of Steve’s. He remembered. Remembered when they had each swapped one of their tags with the other so that they were always carrying part of the other with them, no matter what happened. 

He swallowed hard, feeling a lump in his throat as he looked at Steve who gave him a half smile. “Fuck, Steve…” 

“I was still wearing them when the plane went down…” He said softly. “I just thought that perhaps…” 

Bucky nodded, slipping the chain over his head, the tags a cool weight against his chest, familiar in a way that made him ache. He picked them up, the metal scraping softly against his metal fingers, studying them. The one that had gone down with Steve was slightly tarnished, the other brand new, with Steve’s details on, identical to the old one, until he turned it over to see ‘’til the end of the line’ engraved on the back. “Thank you.” 

There were no words that he could use that would sum up the way he felt at that moment. Steve understood that, could feel the emotions himself. The look on Bucky’s face, the way his hands had started to shake had told him everything that he needed to know. “I’ve got the same on mine now too.” He replied quietly. “Was too hard to wear ‘em without you around but now, I think I’d like to start wearing them again.” He said with a smile, looking away from his hands where he’d been staring, looking back to Bucky, pulling him into a kiss. “I love you, Buck, y’know that right?” 

“I’ve known it since what, 1934? 35? Pretty damn long time. I love you too, and you know, it was worth it. All of it, if it means being here with you now.” 

Steve nodded. “I’d never wish on you anything that happened, but a world with you now is one helluva better place than it was without you.” He stated quietly. It was true that being woken up in the world, with Bucky still gone, and his friends all dead, or in Peggy’s case, extremely elderly had felt like the cruelest trick that somebody could have played on him. Then he’d started to carve out a life for himself, not the one that he would have wanted, but a life because he couldn’t back down and give in, not without a reason. 

“Hey, hey. Don’t go there. You fancy going for a walk in a bit? I could do with stretching my legs, been cooped up too long, and it’ll be pretty quiet and peaceful.” Bucky gestured out at the snowy cityscape beyond. 

“Sure. If you’re up to it.” Steve flashed him a sudden grin and Bucky knew damn well that he was thinking back to the night before. 

“Think I showed you that I’m up to it, don’t you?” 

“Yeah you might have given me a hint.” Replied Steve with a warm smile, settling back on the couch to drink his coffee. Bucky lay down, head on Steve’s lap, feet on the other end of the couch, one hand fiddling with the tags round his neck as Steve tangled his free hand absently in Bucky’s hair. 

“Back in the field soon enough then. Another week probably. Hopefully they’ll have fixed my gear by then. Well, replaced it, I think it may have been past repair.” Bucky replied lazily, looking up at Steve. 

Steve nodded, letting his gaze travel down over Bucky’s bare torso as he lay there, seeing the scars, still healing from the week before. Hard to believe that he had been at death’s door so recently, that it had been mere days since Steve had thought he was going to lose him. He swallowed, refusing to dwell on it, seeing the expression on Bucky’s face, the one that told him that he knew damn well what he was thinking about. He took a slow breath, relaxed. They were still there, it was Christmas and honestly, he felt like the luckiest guy on the damn planet. “Yeah you did a number on your gear. I’m sure they’ll have sorted something out. I don’t think that SHIELD stops for the holidays.” 

“Yeah, I think we just get special dispensation for the whole Avengers thing…” 

“I know that Nat and Clint have worked through Christmas a lot in the past. We will be too if there’s a global threat.” 

“Well let’s just hope that supervillains are too busy with their turkey to get on with world domination today then shall we?” 

Steve rolled his eyes, letting the music wash around them, lapsing into a comfortable silence. It was something that neither of them had thought they would have again, but both were grateful for, comfortable and at home with each other. Slowly they began talking again, filling the silence with reminiscences, with old jokes, with new ones, with talk of the future and of the here and now. 

After a few hours they got dressed and headed out of the door, Steve with a duffle bag with the presents in for the rest of the Avengers they’d be meeting up with for Christmas lunch at the tower. That way they wouldn’t have to go back to the apartment on the way. 

Outside the air was freezing but refreshing, more snow threatening. They walked side by side, Steve letting Bucky lead the way, taking him wherever he wanted to go. They kept a steady pace, shoulder to shoulder as they had so many times in the past. Bucky let Steve take his hand as they wandered the streets, heading slowly but inexorably towards the Brooklyn Bridge. Steve glanced at Bucky, wearing a grey slouched beanie, black wool coat and a red scarf, thinking again just how damn attractive he was, how modern clothes suited him so well. 

Their boots crunched against the snow and ice, and a few flakes began falling from the leaden sky, landing softly upon them. Bucky glanced over at Steve with a grin. “Still better’n those mountains in France, right?” 

“Yeah, somehow I prefer this.” Replied Steve with a grin as they reached the bridge, stepping out onto the walkway. Bucky nodded, pausing, looking out across the swirling iron grey of the river below them. He felt a tremor of apprehension run through him, nerves that he pushed down firmly as he turned away, looking at Steve, seeing the way the cold had made his cheeks and nose slightly pink, the way he looked so relaxed, content, happy in his own skin in a way that he hadn’t for far too long. Bucky reached into his pocket, his gaze never leaving Steve. 

Steve stared as Bucky dropped to one knee in the snow, pulling a small box out of his pocket as he did. “Shit…” He murmured, eyes widening as he took in the man in front of him, all in black save for the grey hat and scarf as a splash of colour, snowflakes clinging to his clothes and dark lashes, grey eyes fixed on Steve as though he was the only person in the world. 

Bucky chuckled and nodded, ignoring the way he snow was soaking through the knee of his trousers, looking up at Steve. “Let me do this, huh, punk?” He said with a laugh, voice slightly rough. “I love you. Simply put, I love you. I’ve loved you since I knew what the hell love really was, and save for when my mind wasn’t my own, I’ve not stopped loving you. Not Captain America, no, I love Steve Rogers, that punk kid from Brooklyn who never knew when to back down from a fight, that stubborn as hell guy that I’ve always looked up to. You’re my north, Steve, always have been. And now that we can do this, I’d be honoured if you’d marry me.” 

Steve stared at him, feeling a swell of emotion rush through him, felt tears well up that he refused to let fall and he nodded, taking Bucky’s hand, pulling him to his feet. “‘Course I will, Buck. Can’t think of anything I want more.” He replied, letting Bucky kiss him firmly, their lips cold from the snow, feeling only heat between them. 

“I’m glad. This ring’s for you, I’m not askin’ you to wear an engagement ring, but I figured that you could use it as a wedding ring, if you like it. Luckily I got it a month or so ago because that’s one thing I wasn’t gonna sent Nat out for.” He stated with a low laugh, voice still rough with emotion as he handed it over to Steve. 

It was silver with a fine black line running around the centre. Simple and straight forward. Inside was engraved ‘til the end of the line. Steve nodded, turning it over between his gloved fingers before putting it carefully back in the box, slipping it into his own pocket. “It’s perfect.” 

“Merry Christmas.” Murmured Bucky, pulling him into a tight hug. 

“Yeah, Merry Christmas.” Echoed Steve, hugging him back tightly before they began the walk to the tower through the snow that began falling thicker and faster, one arm round each other. Together. 

The End.


End file.
